Oh, shit.
Ro’s chest tightened, her stomach dropping as she turned her gaze to the man who’d just spoken the rumbled warning from behind her. Her eyes immediately lifted upward toward his, but he wasn’t looking at her. No that dark, intense glare she’d recognize anywhere had already locked with Clayton’s.
And the man it belonged to looked like he was ready to kill.
2
“Brody! Hey!”Ro kept her fake as heck smile in place as she greeted the very man she’d been trying to ignore.
In her hurried attempt to keep the peace, she rushed to make introductions—and hopefully distract the man of her dreams from clocking her biggest client.
“Clayton, I don’t think you’ve had the chance to meet my friend. This is Brody King. You met his sister, Megan. She’s my friend who owns Cup of Joe.”
“Ah, yes, of course.” Clayton’s smile looked a bit off as he veryunhurriedly met Brody’s gaze. “That adorable little coffee shop across from Millennium Park where you and I have spent many an afternoon together. How could I forget?”
Better question is how could a guy with his elevated social status be so utterly clueless when it came to reading the room?
He was clearly mistaking Brody’s sudden alpha-male appearance as something more than what it actually was…an overprotective friend who’d clearly witnessed their interaction and thought she was in trouble.
And since a pissing match was the last thinganyof them needed—especially since neither man had a reason to be fighting over her in the first place—Ro sprang into action once more.
“That’s the one!” she gave an overly enthusiastic nod in response.
Swinging her head back around to face Brody, she had to stop herself from physically recoiling. His dark, statue-like gaze was unmoving as he continued staring down a man whose family owned half of Chicago.
“You’re still touching her,” Brody growled.
It wasn’t an exaggeration. The man had quite literally growled.
“Forgive me.” Clayton finally released her wrist. “I do appreciate you looking out for the lady, but I can assure you, she’s fine.”
Uh…sheis right here and can speak for herself.
“He’s right, Brody.” For once. “It’s all good. Really. Clayton’s a client. He recently hired me to do a whole rebranding of his personal line of spa products used and sold in his family’s luxury hotel chain.”
“You should give them a try,” Clayton interjected. “They’re cruelty-free and all-natural, which are used and sold in each of his family’s forty-three luxury hotels website and social media accounts.”
That’s what she did for a living. Website and social media designing and maintenance. And while her client list had been slow to get started, she’d hit the jackpot when Clayton Yorke had stumbled across one of her own social media accounts showcasing some of her work.
After reaching out via her work email, they’d had an initial meeting—at Cup of Joe, of course—to discuss his plans and her ideas to bring them into fruition. The hotel heir had been impressed with her growing portfolio and had hired her on the spot.
“He was trying to get my attention, and I didn’t hear him, is all,” Ro further excused the inappropriate behavior to a still-stewing Brody. Facing Clayton again, she told him, “Brody’s with me tonight. Well, notme.He’s a part of the group of friends I was telling you about. His teammate’s the one with the birthday.”
In a move that struck her as purposely slow, Clayton held out the same hand that had grabbed her a moment earlier, his blue eyes assessing Brody’s six-four frame as if he were sizing him up.
“Clayton Yorke. You’re part of a team, eh? Football? I’m going to go with…quarterback. No, wait…kicker.”
Though the tension between the two men was so thick she’d need a jackhammer to cut through it, Ro had to roll her lips inward to keep from smiling. “It’s not exactly that kind of team.”
At that, Brody turned that steely gaze of his her way. She stared back with a wide-eyed, pleading gaze, silently begging him to return Clayton’s offered gesture.
One. Two. Three. Four…
Five very long, very uncomfortable seconds, Brodyfinallyput her out of her misery and shook the other man’s offered hand.
“Brody King.” A single, tight shake. “As for me and my team, we play a very different kind of game.”
Lord save me from these testosterone-driven creatures.